


Reality Uncertain

by Aivix



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Sentient Atlantis, Virtual Reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 14:08:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7848067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aivix/pseuds/Aivix





	Reality Uncertain

There hadn't even been a blip, a change, a _hint_.

It'd just... happened between one word and the next and they'd carried on, oblivious.

* * *

Reality was this: as Elizabeth had told them of the latest news of and from their allies, John and Rodney had nodded then, inexplicably, rolled back into a tandem seizure event.

“There's nothing in their bloodwork,” Carson assured, though baffled. “Scan is clean on both of them.”

“And there's nothing in the logs to show toxin or gas or an outside source that interfered,” Radek added.

“Could it have been something off-world?”

“Aye. That's always a possibility.”

Elizabeth sighed. “I'll have Teyla and Ronon come down. Maybe you and they can determine some sort of common denominator,” she said, glancing between the two beds. “When do you think they'll wake up?”

“It'll be some hours.”

“All right. I'll check in on them in the morning, then.”

(Morning came, morning went, and still they slept on.)

* * *

Rodney had gone off to his lab after the meeting, too many gadgets that needed cataloging and too many requisition requests that needed looking over. Hell, he still had that device from a week prior that seemed to be charging up, but for what, neither he nor Radek could surmise.

“You know, normal people are all in bed by now.”

“And I'm normal?” Rodney snorted, but didn't look up from the database he'd been scrolling through until the screen winked out. “Hey!”

John continued leaning against the doorframe, Atlantean systems quieting down as he smirked at his lover. “It's time for bed, Rodney,” he declared, “That brain of yours needs a rest.”

“My brain never rests.”

“Never? Hm, sounds like a challenge.”

Rodney rolled his eyes at the innuendo. “You're an overgrown teenager.”

“Yep.”

“It's unattractive.”

“No, it's not.”

“It's sickening how sure of yourself you are, Kirk.”

John's smirk widened and he cocked his head to one side. “You gonna stop whining at me because I'm making you leave the lab or do you want me to tell her to lock you out for a couple of hours?”

“You're an asshole.”

* * *

One morning fed into the next and the next.

Five days, six, a week, then a month.

Neither John nor Rodney ever stirred: they lay in their infirmary beds, IVs and feeding tubes threading along the sheets and rails. Monitors formed a headboard; large screens with a summary readout was so monotonous Carson barely ever looked it.

“Anything?” Elizabeth asked each time she visited.

“No change,” Carson answered.

Radek officially took over Rodney's duties. That, of course, included the priority lab space, but he couldn't bring himself to touch anything in there that wasn't urgently needed—it remained as Rodney had left it that day.

The same could be said of John's office: Lorne took the necessary paperwork, the booklets and binders for running the military of the colony, and closed off the small room.

As for their quarters...

Elizabeth had struggled with the decision for a long while, having found an odd solace in leaving their belongings as they were. (Maybe just for the illusion that they were merely sleeping and would recover shortly, maybe because both rooms had become places that those closest to the pair went when they needed comfort.)

“We need to prepare for the likelihood that they're...”

Carson leaned over to squeeze one of her hands. “Going to die.”

She swallowed and nodded, trying to keep strong. “There's been no change in any way and we need to be pragmatic now that we're on our own,” she said, catching Ronon's eye, “I'd like us to pack their quarters.”

* * *

“Where did you put my pants?”

John shrugged. “You're the one who threw them when you took them off.”

“Yeah, and then you went and folded everything because you're neurotic.”

“I don't remember folding your pants. And I'm military. It's a little different than neurotic.”

“Not during sex!”

Rodney groaned and stopped his frantic searching, standing in one place as he surveyed the room. “Great. I'm going to have to walk back to my quarters in my underwear.”

John looked entirely too proud of himself at that remark; he dodged a pillow when Rodney threw one at his head, laughing even when Rodney called him, “Kirk.”

“Kirk was a sex god.”

“Kirk had every form of space clap and then some.”

“Okay, I don't have space clap,” John stated, before rolling off the bed and onto his feet. He left his own clothes where they'd been set and sorted through for Rodney's pants which he'd hidden by folding them into his pair.

Rodney gave him one of his most potent bitchfaces and grabbed for his pants. He announced, “No, you have stupid,” once he'd dragged them on.

“I wasn't aware that was contagious.” John crawled back into bed, task complete, and said, “I have training with Lorne and Ronon and the new recruits tomorrow.”

“So you'll be at the settlement until dinner.”

“Yeah. If you need a lightswitch, you're gonna have to call Carson.”

“That always ends so well for me. I swear, he adds inoculations to my chart every time he has to come to the lab.”

“Well, at least you won't get space clap.”

* * *

After Earth had been lost to them, Elizabeth had quickly set about changing and installing policies for the colony.

Among the first to go had been Don't Ask Don't Tell.

“I didn't know.”

John and Rodney had yet hadn't taken advantage of the policy shift, it seemed: there were hints of each other in the two quarters, belongings that a partner would keep like clothing and books and soap and toothpaste, and then a clear sign.

“They were both so private,” Carson murmured.

Elizabeth nodded in agreement, then glanced down at the rings in her hand—Athosian metal, clean and masculine—and whispered, “They were.”

* * *

Sixteen days of daytime training later, John was all but falling over with exhaustion.

“I think Satedan training is just cleverly disguised torture.”

Rodney snorted.

“I could use a backrub.”

“You could use a shower.”

John, having already fallen face-first into bed, flapped a hand in the air. “Too tired. Too sore.”

“Wow. Don't let the rest of the Atlantean Civil Defense Force hear that. Might fall off a few pedestals.”

“After the last two weeks, I doubt I was even on many of them. Ronon, on the other hand...” he trailed off, snuffling at the pillow as his stomach let out a long growl.

“Guess that answers the question of if you ate already.”

“No time. Only way I could get here without a trail of puppies was by avoiding the mess.” John pushed himself up, bones popping with the movement, and he struggled to sit and drag his jacket and tee off. “You have anything here?”

“Do I have anything here, he asks.”

Rodney popped the fridge door to reveal the usual menagerie of snacks, sandwiches, and freshly brewed beer (thank you, Lorne) and told John, “Knock yourself out,” before shrugging his own uniform off and digging around in his dresser for clean underwear.

“In a minute. View's kind of nice right now.”

“Is it?” he shimmied his hips a little and grinned at John's perked up expression. “So you're exhausted and sore, but evidently not that exhausted and sore.”

John's reflexes refused to be dulled and he was quick to lean up, grab Rodney, and pull him down in John's lap. “I will never be so exhausted and sore that I won't get turned on by that ass.”

There really wasn't much to say back to that. Instead, Rodney kissed him, one hand sneaking down to unbutton John's pants. He nipped at John's chin when they broke apart and muttered, “Mmm, you know I was going to ask you to come down to the lab for a few minutes, but it can wait,” drawing John's cock through the slit of his boxers.

“The lab?”

“Yeah. Mystery device. Thinking at it. You know the drill.”

“Sex first though?”

“Definitely sex first.”

* * *

It became a ritual for the new members of Atlantis to stop by the infirmary and ask for the blessing of the _Sacrarum_ : young men and women, newly trained and loyal, would sit between the two beds and speak in soft tones before pressing kisses to their fingertips and leaving.

Carson could only imagine what John and Rodney would think of that.

“Your bloody ego would be even larger and you...” Carson smirked as he slipped on gloves and started preparing their evening meals, “...you would antagonize him over it.”

(Normally the nurses would take care of this task—feeding their two favorite charges—but over the previous months, Carson had taken it for himself.

A little while spent with them, watching them.

Hoping, still, for the miracle he and others pleaded for in their prayers.)

“Like children, you two are. Suppose that's your way of flirting, aye?” He mused, as he flushed John's line. He started the feed, before turning to Rodney and doing the same, and told them, “You both must have been those stereotypical pigtail pullers in primary.”

He sat back into the oft-visited chair, waiting while the liquid diet drained into them; crossing his legs at the ankle as he stretched, he told them, “Anyway, the latest news. Radek thinks he might have found something interesting. Our last meeting, he spent, oh, forty-five minutes about, just spouting off about the power logs and surges. I don't pretend to understand it, Rodney, but he asked Elizabeth for permission to divert his projects while he looks in to it.

“Oh, and it seems our fair Elizabeth has started dating. Darling is so nervous, but she's gone to dinner twice now with the same gentleman, and John, you're not to tease her about it.”

The last few drips of John's meal slipped into the line and Carson got back to his feet. “Hope you enjoyed this one. I asked the cook to add a bit of extra turkey into the blend,” he patted John's arm, “Happy birthday.”

* * *

Their latest find on P3X-764 was a pair of warships, derelict and only slightly damaged, and John nearly wet himself when Rodney told him, “They need a few parts replaced and the shields probably won't do much if we encounter a cruiser, but the hyperdrive is in perfect order in this one and the cloak works,” and, “So we can fly home.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Oh, uh...”

Rodney lifted an eyebrow at him, snarking, “Need a minute alone with it?”

“I might.”

“You're ridiculous.”

“Rodney, this brings us to five ships. _Five._ ”

“You can count to five. I'm impressed.”

John smacked his arm in retaliation, then made for the pilot's chair before Rodney could say anything else. Lights and consoles started to blink on as he passed them, and Rodney grumbled, “Stupid sentient technology,” but John could feel the tickle of the ship at the back of his mind and knew Rodney felt it as well.

(Atlantean technology loved them, though neither knew why.)

* * *

The energy spike that had caught Radek's eye had occurred at the exact moment of John and Rodney's seizures. Which was creepier than Elizabeth was comfortable with, and ultimately she had told him, “Nothing in Atlantis is ever coincidental. Look in to it.”

After two weeks of sorting through the readings, he could only say this: “It appears to have come from something within the science division. I've started cycling through the data from experiments that were running at the time, but, so far, there was nothing attached to the power grid that could draw that much power. I still have more to go through, though.”

Elizabeth nodded and told him, “All right. Well, let me know if you find anything to explain it after you review the rest of the log,” but expected nothing more: it'd been so long that Carson doubted much could be done for their now-failing friends.

They were thin from the muscle atrophy and their organs had started to show problems from the long-term inactivity. IVs, feedings, and PT had staved it all off for a while, but nothing lasted forever.

No one lasted forever.

Still, she hoped.

And then Radek reappeared in her office.

* * *

Elizabeth had sent them both off for a few days on the mainland—the settlement having grown into a thriving town replete with a hotel and tavern—and John had been more than happy to go.

Rodney... well, someone had to be dragged out his lab and to the 'jumper before Radek shanked him.

(That stupid device still made Rodney crazy sometimes, even after several years. He really needed to shove it in a closet and forget about it.)

“I can't figure it out!”

“Rodney, let it go.”

“But...”

John rolled his eyes at his husband and gave the waitress a sympathetic look before kicking Rodney under the table. “Romantic dinner,” he told Rodney, “Remember? Anniversary?”

There was a little grumbling, but Rodney dropped his chin into his hand and started to reel off his usual order. Waitress dealt with, he wanted to resume discussing the machine, only to be interrupted when a chair suddenly materialized at their table and Elizabeth appeared in it.

She looked younger than she had this morning, if more tired, and Rodney froze where he sat; John cocked his head to the side, threat-assessing, and Elizabeth softened under the gaze.

“God, you're both a sight for sore eyes.” She looked between them, though she kept her hands to herself and didn't move—no need to get John's instincts worked up—and then began to spill out the story in soft, practiced words.

(“Five years ago, we brought an ancient device out of storage. Rodney, you spent some time trying to get it to work with John and went so far as to connect it to the city's power grid since you thought it might need some additional charge. Which you were right about.

“It was a Virtual Reality generator, or at least that's what Radek's calling it. And because you both were the only people to touch it, when it reached peak power, it pulled you both in.”)

She spent a while on it, explaining whatever she could until Rodney's eyes went wide and he whispered, “The last ten years... none of it happened.”

Elizabeth nodded, looking to John, and murmuring, “It's a lot, I know.”

He swallowed and spoke, “You're here to bring us back.”

“Yes and no. I came to tell you how to wake up, but I can't make you—either of you. The machine won't allow it.”

“And if we chose to stay?”

She let out a breath: that was the question she'd been fearing, clearly.

“Carson thinks you both have a few more weeks at most before your bodies shut down completely.” She glanced between them. “If you were to return, you're looking at a long recuperation and there's no guarantee that you'd ever be 100 percent the men you were when you entered the VR environment. If you stay, you'll have another few years in here and then...”

* * *

They slept in their own bed that night.

Elizabeth had been more than curious as to their early return but neither felt the urge to explain. They'd trudged off to their quarters instead, promising to explain later, and locked themselves in.

They'd looked every picture on their walls, moments with family and friends that had felt so very real then, and sat on the balcony to watch the moonrise; Atlantis hummed around them as Rodney toyed idly with his wedding ring, following John to their bed where he took his ring off altogether and held it up to examine.

Silence had fallen between them, comfortable, but he broke it as he asked, “If this is all a dream, what's gonna happen when we wake up?”

(They'd changed in here.

They'd gone through hardship and pain and joy and marriage.

They weren't the same men that Elizabeth—the real one—remembered.)

John set his hand on Rodney's chest, scratching over the sparse hair, and replied, “I don't know.”

“But we're going back, aren't we?”

In lieu of an answer, John curled closer to Rodney and closed his eyes.


End file.
